


If Heaven Is As Heaven Does (Then This Is Hell For Sure)

by ADaughterOfColdharbour



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Character Study, F/F, F/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, There is minor violence and death, This is more rambling than anything, nothing terribly graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-26 21:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7590385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADaughterOfColdharbour/pseuds/ADaughterOfColdharbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Velissara Firekissed is a mage, a newly made soldier, and, above all, she is annoyed.<br/>A story following the life of a sin'dorei who traveled to Northrend in search of vengeance for her people against the Scourge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this! This story was born from a roleplay plot, and I decided to finally sit down and write out my main character's story. This will be a multi-chapter work, going through Velissara's journeys through Northrend and beyond. Comments are always welcome. Enjoy! xx

It was midday, the sun at its peak high in the sky, and Velissara leaned her head back to revel in its warmth upon her upturned face. Midsummer was rapidly approaching, and that meant even warmer weather than usual, and most of her quel'dorei kin were content to laze around all day, throwing lavish parties by night. On some evenings, the lights from Windrunner Spire could be seen from her bedroom window, though her family's home was on the eastern outskirts of Windrunner Village.

There was a slight breeze tugging at her hair, threatening to turn the pages of the tome laid in front of her. Histories of magics both fair and foul, and how to harness such power was her topic of study currently, and as usual, her mind was wandering. She's promised her father -a renowned mage of the Magisterium, gone away to Silvermoon City for some council meeting- that she would finish the current book and write her thoughts and estimations for his return. But, alas, the sweet smell of the flora dotting her family's estate and the sound of her siblings training in the lawn below her had caught her attention.

Velissara grumbled quietly to herself, marking her place in the heavy book before slamming it shut. She gathered her scribbled notes and piled them together, placing her inkwell atop them to keep them from being blown away. She stood, stretching out her aching muscles from sitting too long, and padded barefoot across the smooth tile to lean over the railing of the balcony she claimed as her study nook, looking down to watch her siblings spar.

Perfect Vailea was performing perfectly; her stance perfect and her aim perfect with her perfect sword. Velissara snorted to herself, shaking her head. Vesryn, her naive little brother, seemed to struggle to parry Vailea's blows. He was very near adulthood, and quite eager to learn the warrior's ways like their mother. A little too eager, in Vel's opinion; his movements were sloppy, his timing too rushed. Vailea seemed to know this, and instead of teaching him patience and practice, was quite elated to best her baby brother at every turn. Vel smiled, though; annoyances they may be, but they were hers.

"Do you plan on standing there gawking all day?"

Vel startled, her elbows slipping from the railing of the balcony. Her gaze zeroed in on her elder sister, who had her arm held above her eyes to shield the sun. She was smiling widely, and her hair, as red as fire, was coming apart from it's short braid; it was a distinct imperfection that had Vel smirking wryly to herself. Vesryn, on the other hand, was leaning against the pommel of his sword, the point driven into the ground, and his chest heaving from exertion.

"Maybe I do. It's far more interesting that dusty tomes," Velissara finally replied, shrugging her shoulders delicately. She could hear Vesryn's infectious laughter all the way from the second floor.

"Why dont you join us, sister?" He called up, "You could team up with me and we could take Vie down a notch."

"As if such a thing were possible. She carries that pedestal mother and father put her on with her," Vel called back with a snort. Vailea shouted a "Hey!" before smacking Vesryn's leg with the blunt end of her sword. He laughed once more, and this time they all joined in.

Looking back to her work, Vel bit down on her bottom lip thoughtfully. Father wasnt due back for another fortnight; surely she could spend an afternoon with her siblings. Shrugging her shoulders, Vel pulled up the skirts of her light silken gown, pulling herself up to stand atop the wrought-iron railing. Her legs shook as she found her balance, and, taking a deep breath, she stepped off.

The sounds of her sister's shock and her brother's fear quickly met her ears, but she simply smiled. After a half second of falling, Vel muttered a simple incantation under her breath, and felt herself go instantly weightless. She was enveloped by the air around her, and let herself be carried by the breeze gently down to the ground below. She soon felt grass tickle the bottom of her feet, and she shook herself out, standing tall before striding over to her siblings.

"You could have killed yourself!" Her sister was already chastising, before she'd even gotten halfway across the yard.

"It was only the second floor, Vie," Vel replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Do you not think of any consequences at all?"

"Relax, sister. It really isnt a big deal."

"Honestly, Vel. You must be more responsible. It's what mother and father would want, after I'm gone."

"I - wait, sorry?" Vel peered curiously at her sister. The ever-present birdsong in their forested home seemed to hush, and Vel felt as though the silence were pressing upon her ears.

"When I'm dead, Vel. When the Scourge killed me, and our home burned. You're responsible for the family, now," Vailea said in a quiet yet sure voice, a sad smile tugging her lips.

Vel had gone cold, despite the warmth of the sunshine. "I dont understand." She turned to her brother, but his back was to his sisters, and his gaze was drawn to the ocean. Vel's heart began to pound beneath her breast.

"You and Vesryn are all that's left. You lead the family now, sister. It's your job to carry on, for all of us; for me, and for mother and father. For everyone lost when _He_ came."  
The backs of Vel's eyes had begun to burn with budding tears, and she sucked in a shaking breath. "I never wanted that burden."

"I know. And I'm sorry," Vailea responded, her smile dropping. She reached out a hand to brush a long strand of hair from Vel's eyes, but the moment her hand made contact, a bright flash enveloped them both.

Gasping, her sister's name on her lips, Velissara jolted forward. She was breathing heavily, tears streaming down her face. Disoriented, she looked around; she was in a low cot, a tent around her and the bitter chill of snow and ice surrounding her.

It all came flooding back, then; the Scourge attack on Quel'thalas, her ancestral home burning, Vailea and her parents slaughtered along with countless others. Tragedy upon tragedy, now finally coming to a head in the freezing waste of Northrend. Vel instinctively reached for the golden staff propped beside her cot, and wrapped her fingers around the chilled metal to center herself.

_A dream. I was dreaming of home._

Bringing her knees to her chest, grasping her father's staff like a lifeline, Velissara wept.


	2. Chapter 2

Velissara experienced a difficult and fitful sleep following her dream, and in the early morning hours she finally arose and began to prepare for the day. She had been sent to Dragonblight by Archmage Aethas Sunreaver to join the Horde's fight against the Scourge there, but in a strange twist of fate she'd found herself entangled with the troubles of the various dragonflights, and she now worked to help purify and assist their various shrines. She was frustrated beyond reasoning at this change of plans; what help was this in fighting the Lich King? She understood that the dragons were, of course, needed in the grand scheme of things, and yet she could hardly hold back her thirst for vengeance during these trying times.

She dressed slowly, pulling on her fur-lined robes and tying her scarlet sash, bearing the golden crest of the sin'dorei. The bottoms of her boots were beginning to wear away from all the traveling, and Vel made a mental note to stop by Dalaran soon to resupply her gear and rations. She sat back on her low cot, tugging on the worn boots and staring off into the distance.

The dream had been one of many she had experience during recent months. When the Scourge first came to Quel'thalas and all but eradicated her people, she was too busy fighting or organizing or peacekeeping to do anything more than simply fall onto a free space and doze into an exhausted and dreamless sleep. When Prince Kael'thas had gone to Outland with many of their best and brightest, she'd naively had hope for the future of her people. That hope was all but dashed to ribbons, and as she took up her father's place in the Magisterium -thus earning her a great title, responsibility, and renown in Silvermoon City- she was thrown right into the middle of a brand-new panic and fear in the capital of her people. She'd attended meetings with the Grand Magister, spoke fervently with the Regent Lord himself, and did all she could to scrape together what she could so that she and her people may once more overcome a great tragedy. But in the sudden lull and quiet as they rebuilt, Vel was forced to relive the worst time of her life. The sound of her mother's screams echoing in her ears ... her father throwing her his staff and yelling at her to _run, dalah'surfal, run and never look back_ ... when the news reached her that Vailea had been killed alongside the Ranger-General, and the runner had gently handed her the ruined bow Vie always kept at her back ... Vesryn falling to his knees before her, drunk for the first time in his life and sobbing uncontrollably ... She carried all of that with her, even now. She would never let go of those feelings, those memories; it was her responsibility to remember, and to make sure her people would never experience such loss again. She was the head of the family now. It was her duty.

As Vel sat straighter, snapping her fingers and expending a small bit of magic to level her small cracked mirror in front of her face, her brows knit and expression tight, she began to braid her waist-length crimson hair. After all she had done in Silvermoon, avoiding moments of quiet where she would be forced to confront her sorrow, she was now thrown into a war. The Lich King had returned, and she had been sent with many of her kin to the floating city of Dalaran and the frozen wastes of Northrend, where they would end His evil once and for all. War, she had found, was quite the distraction indeed; she was almost constantly on the move, and when she was still she was fighting. There were camps scattered all throughout the land, and she had marked her map where fellow soldiers or travelers informed her was safety. So she traveled, and she fought, riding towards the scribbled locations on her map when she was too exhausted to swing her staff, and she did all she could on the path to retribution.

_But that wont happen if I'm stuck in bloody Dragonblight_ , she thought bitterly to herself. Tying off the end of her braid with a worn leather strip, Vel pushed it over her shoulder and took hold of the mirror, shoving it in her rucksack with more force than neccessary. She stood from the cot, securing her bag over her shoulders before reaching for her staff. As her hands wrapped around the golden metal, she found herself thinking of its previous owner. Her father was a mage renowned all throughout their kingdom, both wise and patient, and his talent wondrous to behold. It had always been his wish that Vel take his place in the Magisterium, and when she was young she couldnt wait for that day. She'd only visited Silvermoon City three or four times a year, and each time she stepped into the city she was dazzled. It was grand, and elegant, with the sounds of music and laughter echoing through the streets. The golden banners fluttering through the breeze looked as though they danced, and when she joined her father in Sunfury Spire and saw the banners reflecting the sigils of the great houses, with the leader of each families names stitched into the silk, she had always believed that one day, her name would join those of legend.

But that day had come far too soon. Her father was slaughtered along with her mother and their household, her sister felled by the Scourge with most of her fellow Farstriders, and suddenly all that was left of noble and venerable House Firekissed was Velissara and Vesryn. She had gotten her wish; a magister of the grand court of Silvermoon, the ear of the Grand Magister himself, and her name stitched beneath her family's sigil. Where once was a girl, learning the ways of the arcane and wishing desperately to leave the confines of her home, now there stood the matriarch of House Firekissed. She had not been ready for it. If she was older, had seen the world and learned its lessons, if her father had only taught her more. If there had been more **_time_ ** -

Vel shoved that thought away quickly. _There's no use dwelling on past mistakes_ , she reminded herself, and quickly took up the staff before turning and stepping through the flaps on the tent and into the snow.

* * *

"No shit, there I was ..."

Velissara rolled her eyes, launching a fireball at a stunted ghoul. The dwarf was regaling a tale from when he fought from the back of a red dragon, much to the delight of her other companions. There was Alessandria, a fellow sin'dorei armed with a bow; Emalia, a fellow mage, but human; the fearsome orc warrior Shadala; and finally the dwarf paladin Thorgrim. Horde and Alliance were working together to aid the dragonqueen herself, and fought side-by-side to rid the Ruby Dragonshrine of the Scourge.

"I thought it was against the Light to lie?" Shadala asked with a snort, impaling one geist on her longsword, dazing another by smacking it in the head with her shield. Emalia was quick to shoot arcane missiles at the dazed geist, and it fell lifeless to the snow.

"Aye, 'course it is! Good thing I aint lying, then, eh?" Thorgrim shot back, loosing a storm of golden energy around him, before swinging his mighty hammer into three different foes. Vel watched as Alessandria shot arrow after arrow into the skulls of geists at the dwarf's flank from her position on the rise to the west.

They all worked together as though they had been fighting as one for years; it was seamless, transitioning into moves and abilities that could be perfectly balanced by the person beside them. It was strange, but it brought a new vigor to Vel's heart, and she shot spell after spell, and noticed that not one of them looked to her conjured fire with fear. They trusted her.

"Anar'alah belore, what do they feed these things?" Alessandria hissed out over the din of battle, and Vel looked to see an Abomination lumbering towards the vanguard of the attack. Namely, them.

Vel cursed under her breath, before focusing her mind and chanting quietly. The Farstrider went to one knee, lining up the perfect shot. Nearby, Emalia laughed nervously before taking a deep breath, her hands beginning to glow blue. Thorgrim and Shadala just looked to one another, shrugged, and with a mighty battle cry, ran headlong towards the Abomination.

"I got its legs!"

"That's the only thing you can reach, little man!"

"Words hurt, Shadala."

They all laughed as one, and Vel yelled out a spell, throwing the weight of her body forward and pushing the Dragon's Breath to the Abomination, focusing her energy on twining the fire around the orc and dwarf, instead scorching their great foe.

Arrows were sticking out in a macabre fashion from the thing's eyes, blinding it. In a rage it swung its heavy arms, lashing out with its axe and nearly cleaving Thorgrim in two, had the blow not been blocked by Shadala's shield. Before she could begin to cast another spell, the Abomination was flung several feet in the air, bellowing loudly as it landed on its back. Vel swung her head to look to Elaila, who merely shrugged her shoulders delicately, a smile on her face. Vel found herself laughing.

Within moments, the thing was dead in the snow, and Vel leaned on her staff, wiping the sweat from her brow. "Look," she called out, "the Scourge - they've stopped coming. We've done it! We've won!"

Thorgrim and Shadala made their way back up to them, Alessandria dropping from the ridge and sheathing her bow. They regrouped, watching as other ragtag teams finished up the undead stragglers. As one, they turned their back to the shrine, marching back to the main camp ahead, exchanging jokes and false complaints, each one grinning in their triumph.

* * *

Vel would later hear that Alessandria returned to Silvermoon weeks later, and be given medals of honor for her part in defeating the Scourge. She would never know that Emalia was more than she seemed, or that Shadala joined the Argent Crusade and brought honor to Orgrimmar in the Tournament, all the while Thorgrim at her side. She would never know that Thorgrim returned to Ironforge in a casket.

She would never see any of them again.


	3. Chapter 3

"The Argent Crusade? You must be joking," Vel threw her arms up in exasperation, scoffing loudly. She was pacing around the office of Archmage Aethas Sunreaver, leader of the sin'dorei faction that represented the Horde in Dalaran - aptly named the Sunreavers. And, therefore, her direct superior.

"Magister ..." He began, his exhaustion clear from the slump of his shoulders and strung-out tone of voice.

"Archmage," she parroted, ceasing her pacing in front of his desk, leaning forward to look directly at Aethas. They stared at one another for a tense moment, before Aethas muttered in Thalassian under his breath, bringing a hand down over his cheek.

"You came to me for assignment. You've been assigned. Go to the Argent Vanguard in Icecrown, and report to Highlord Tirion Fordring. Honestly, isnt this what you've been begging me for? A real shot at fighting the Scourge?" Aethas asked, leaning back in his chair and watching her with a single brow arched.

Vel silently fumed, her hands curling into tight fists. She turned abruptly on her heel, striding over to the open doors leading to the balcony. Pausing at the threshold, her eyes fell shut and she granted herself a moment to relax before possibly saying something rash. Aethas' office was high up in the Violet Citadel in Dalaran, and the sharp winds from such a height tugged at her loose hair, tangling the ends and causing her long ears to twitch. The cool air was refreshing, and after a few silent moments Vel's shoulders slumped the smallest bit, and she turned back to Aethas with a frown on her face.

"I know, but ... The Argent Crusade? _Really_? They're all paladins - soldiers of the Light; all holier-than-thou and righteous. And, need I add, they are mostly human. What would they want with a fel-tainted blood elf mage?" Vel said bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest and looking pleadingly to Aethas. "Anywhere else, Archmage. We have an airship circling Icecrown, dont we? Send me there. I fought in the vanguard in Dragonblight, I can handle it there too."

"All over this blasted continent soldiers have been sent to Orgrim's Hammer - how did you know about the airship anyway? Well, I digress. I'm only in charge of sin'dorei within Dalaran, and I sent a band of magi from here not four days past," Aethas informed her, silencing her protests with a single sharp look. After a small sigh, he opened his hands in an offer of peace, and shot her a small smile. "Think of this as a promotion. Instead of being thrown in with the regular troops, you've been chosen to represent the Sunreavers within the Argent Crusade."

Vel rolled her eyes, but did feel a small swell of pride. She had done everything she could in Dragonblight, and it looked as though the war was turning to victory on their side. In that area, at least. But it still ... felt as though it wasnt quite enough. Yes, she had assisted the dragonflights with their various issues, and helped defeat their evils ... But what good did that do in the fight against the Scourge? How did it weaken the Lich King?

"I do not want to be watched with narrowed eyes, Archmage. I ... I need to feel like I'm actually fucking accomplishing something," she hissed at Aethas, reaching to rub at her sore temples, her eyes falling shut.

Aethas stood from his desk then, and moved around it to stand beside her. He placed a strong hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. She refused to look at him. "You have accomplished much more than you realize, Velissara," he assured her in a low voice. He sounded so convinced, so sure; she almost believed him. "And you will accomplish so much more alongside the Argent Crusade. The Horde, the Alliance ... we are strongest when we work together."

Vel opened her eyes slowly, looking up at the Archmage and swallowing thickly. She was tired; exhausted, really. But she needed to _do_ something.

"I'll make for the Argent Vanguard in the morning," she finally replied, her voice no higher than a whisper. Aethas nodded his head once, dropping his hand from her shoulder and taking a step back. He gestured to the large hearth in the corner.

"Care for a cup of tea? You look like you could use it. Mayhaps something stronger."

That managed to get a small laugh from Vel's throat. She shook her head, however, and inclined her head in thanks. "I appreciate the offer, Archmage. But I fear I need to find someone to repair my gear, and fetch a few other things for my journey to Icecrown. The day is short, after all."

Aethas smiled in return, inclining his head. Together they walked to the door of his office, and he opened it ahead of her. "Take care of yourself, Magister. I expect a personal report in a fortnight."

Vel stepped across the threshold, thanking Aethas once more for his time. With a parting smile, albeit a forced one, Vel turned and strode down the hallway, making for the exit of the Violet Citadel.

* * *

One would think that a mage would find Dalaran quite pleasing to be in. Magic was seeped into the very stones, the air tangy with the scent of it. It was bright, colourful, and nearly everything relied on magic. From the lamps dotting the streets, to the bubbling fountains, and even the plants sitting on windowsills. To Vel, however, Dalaran was a headache. Too many mages in one place meant too many opinions on how to control magic, what type of magic was acceptable, etcetera etcetera ad infinitum. Even the Magisterium back home gave her nothing but stress. But an entire city of magi? She wished to be away almost the moment she stepped foot in the floating city.

She walked quickly through the twining cobblestone streets, face peered up to read the signs posted above shops, hoping to find someone who could repair her boots -or sell her new ones- by tomorrow. After her visit with the Archmage, Vel had stopped by the room she had taken at an inn nearby, double-checking her supplies to ensure she had everything ready to go for her journey to the Argent Vanguard in Icecrown.

Food wasnt something she had to concern herself with. She was able to conjure food for herself, as well as others, from nothing; a gift most magi possessed. Potions to help sustain her inner mana, as well as when she fought exhaustion were something she always kept an ample supply of. Vel has inquired with a quartermaster within the Violet Citadel for procuring more, as her own were running low. He promised a half dozen would be sent to the inn for her to pick up later that evening.

Which left her armor. Her robes were of a deep crimson, accented with gold and lined with fur to keep her warm in the harsh climate. She refused to part with her father's staff, even though she had held a few in various shops that clearly held more powerful enchantments. Staves were merely conduits for power, after all; her old dented staff did the job just fine, thank you very much. Shaking her head, she continued her trek.

* * *

It had only taken another half an hour of searching, but eventually Vel found a shop that specialized in enchanted light armor for magi. In a city of magic, you'd think there would be more around. But with the war, and the sudden influx of people of all races and classes, everyone seemed to be branching out. Haggling with a human man proved to be easier than she initially feared, and she walked out of the man's shop rather painlessly. Her boots were thrown for scrap, and he was making new ones just for her, made of thicker wool and fur that would go to her knees, keeping her both safe and warm through the dangers ahead.

Errands run and still a few hours to spare before she'd retire for the night, Vel slowed her pace. The night was warmer than was natural -thank you, magic- and she abruptly decided to detour towards the memorial for Archmage Antonidas. It was off in a corner, giving the illusion of seclusion, with benches set in a wide circle around the grand statue of the late mage. It was there she sat, gazing up into the stars above. The evening was abnormally quiet for such a bustling city, and it almost made the hair at the back of her neck rise. There was a hush settled around, as if the entire city held its breath in anticipation. For what, she could only guess. Still, it made her nervous, and Vel straightened her posture on the wooden bench, looking this way and that.

There were less lights in the small corner of town, giving the memorial a somber atmosphere. Vel gazed up towards the face of Antonidas' statue, and found herself wondering if he really looked like that. The expression was grim, unsmiling; he looked as though he examined the actions of those below and found them lacking. Vel snorted quietly to herself. Just like every other mage, alive or dead. Or stone, as it were.

Deciding to head back towards the inn before she'd gone _completely_ mad, Vel stood from the bench. Before she'd taken a step, however, the hush was broken by whispering voices. Jumping slightly, Vel stepped around the bench, pushing herself closer to the wall behind it, fading into the shadows. Two women, a human and a draenei, rounded the corner from the street beyond, walking into the wide circle of benches. The human was shaking her head, turning her back on the statue of Antonidas and looking up to the draenei.

"I'm tellin' ya, it's them Horde bastards we oughta watch out for," she said with a distinct Gilnean accent, crossing her arms. She had a leather eyepatch across her forehead, covering her right eye. Vel could just barely make out a scar running from beneath it, and down her cheek.

The draenei shook her head fervently, throwing out her arms. She wore the unmistakable armor of a paladin, all in gilded gold and white. "You are mistaken. The actions of the Wrathgate was not the fault of the Horde, it was the fault of the Forsaken betrayers." Vel's brows furrowed at her words; the Wrathgate connected Icecrown to Dragonblight, if she remembered correctly. What had happened after she had left Dragonblight for Dalaran, she wondered.

"Exactly! That Banshee Queen's got somethin' up her sleeve, mark me words. I know they keep sayin' that she was betrayed and all, but I dont believe it for a moment." _Betrayal? The Forsaken betrayed them?_

"Your perspective is skewed, my friend. The Forsaken are your enemies for what the Banshee Queen and her kind did to your city, yes? We do not know all the facts, and that is fact. Plus," the draenei lowered her voice, looking over her shoulder to ensure they were not being overheard, "I heard that those that betrayed everyone took the Undercity from the Banshee Queen herself! That she and other Horde leaders -even Alliance!- are fighting for it as we speak!"

Vel didnt hear the Gilnean's response, as she was too busy running past the pair of them, heart pounding, towards the Violet Citadel.

* * *

The door to Aethas' quarters were thrust open as Vel knocked, in too much of a rush to wait for a response. The man in question stood quickly from behind his desk, his brows arched in surprise.

"What's happened?"

"You tell me," Vel parroted, shutting the door behind her and trudging to Aethas' desk, crossing her arms and gazing down at him, eyes as hard as steel. "What happened at the Wrathgate?"

Aethas' shoulders dropped, and he fell back into his chair with a sigh. He put his head in his hands, leaning forward on his desk. "One of the worst tragedies we've had since beginning this accursed campaign," he replied, voice tight.

Wordlessly, Vel ran her hands over her face, before moving over to the cabinet next to the hearth, pulling out two tumblers and a bottle of something expensive.

"The forces of Fordragon Hold and the Kor'kron Vanguard were attacking Angrathar the Wrathgate as one force," Aethas began, his words automatic and given without emotion, as though he were reading it from a report. He probably had, Vel realized as she poured them each a drink, bringing the half-full glasses over to his desk.

"The Scourge were out in force, but eventually victory was achieved. When all undead were defeated, the commanding officers of Alliance and Horde -Highlord Bolvar Fordragon and Dranosh Saurfang, respectively- stepped forward towards the gate itself, and Bolvar called for the Lich King to come forward ... And he did," Aethas chuckled without humor, shaking his head. He took the glass Vel offered, and finished half of it in one swallow. Vel's hand curled into a tight fist at the Archmage's words, and she turned away from him, eyes falling shut. The bastard had finally shown his face since they first arrived in Northrend ... and she wasnt there.

"Saurfang gave his life in an attempt to kill the Lich King, and the battle was about to begin anew when Grand Apothecary Putress of the Forsaken made his move," Aethas continued, and Vel felt the breath rush from her chest. So they were betrayed from within.

"He and his followers unleashed a plague of death on ... everyone. It killed Horde, Alliance, and the Scourge. Nothing and no one survived the attack," Aethas finished, his voice barely above a whisper. Vel whirled on him, eyes wide as she leaned in closer towards him.

"No one? What about -"

"The Lich King escaped through the gate, unfortunately," Aethas quickled explained, and Vel felt her heart fall once more. She nodded her head, moving to sit in the chair across from his, and reached for her glass. Taking a deep pull, she motioned for Aethas to continue.

"Blame fell on the Banshee Queen, naturally. But Sylvanas quickly came forward and told everyone that Putress and his ilk took the Undercity from her, and requested aid from any who would lend it. The Horde tentatively believed her, the Alliance showed up to Undercity with a force ready to take them all out for what her people had done; honestly, it's all a complete mess. And I havent even gotten to the dragons."

"Dragons? They were staying out of our offense on the Scourge, why would they involve themselves?" Vel asked, brows furrowed.

Aethas simply shrugged. "I dont know. All I know is that the Dragonqueen herself showed up with her flight, and set fire to everything. The plague released was destroyed by dragonfire, but so was the land, the corpses of our fallen ... Everything. It it werent for their intervention, the plague would have spread across Dragonblight, and eventually across Northrend," he shrugged once more, finishing the last of his drink and standing immediately, moving to refill it.

Vel sat motionless, dumbfounded by what she had just been told. If she had remained in Dragonblight, no doubt she would have been sent to the Kor'kron Vanguard to fight. She would be dead. Shaking her head, she turned in her seat to look at Aethas. "What happens now, because of this?"

Aethas turned to look at her, a curious expression on his face, before he smiled grimly. "Now, we make our move. It's why you and so many others are being sent to Icecrown. We're taking the fight to the Lich King. No more death. No more betrayal. This **_will_ ** end. And soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wrathgate cinematic changed me as a person.  
> Please feel free to comment with any opinions you have! They're always welcome and appreciated x


End file.
